Friends And Lovers
by CrystallineSolid
Summary: "I think I'm in love with you," whispered Greg, leaning in for a kiss. "I'm in love with Grissom," Sara breathed into his mouth. Greg/Sara/Grissom love triangle. Rated T for language.


Title: Friends And Lovers

Summary: "I think I'm in love with you," whispered Greg, leaning in for a kiss. "I'm in love with Grissom," Sara breathed into his mouth.

Genre: Romance and Drama.

Characters: Greg, Sara and Grissom

Pairing: Hai! The inevitable battle of GSR versus Sandle! But I'm not going to tell you pairing makes it in the end. You'll have have to wait and see!

Rating: T for swearing.

Spoilers: Play With Fire, Inside The Box

Disclaimer: Oh no. I almost forgot to write this thing. Well, I don't own CSI.

Author's Note: Hey guys! It took me a long time to write this (I started in July 2010) and I probably wouldn't even have finished it now if it wan't for the promo for 'A Kiss Before Frying'. It got me so hyped up, that I knew I HAD to finish this piece was partly influenced by a Maroon 5 song called 'Story'. It's really awesome! You should all check it out! Anyway, I will stop rambling now. I hope you enjoy reading (and reviewing) this piece! Oh and, there are a lot of references to the lab explosion in this!

* * *

_Did you know that everything she ever does is for you?  
__So it goes that the story of a broken heart comes true.  
__It comes true._

* * *

When Grissom heard the hesitant knocking on his office door, he looked up from the dreaded paperwork, happy for a distraction. But his delight was cut short when he saw the young lab tech hovering in the doorway.

_Greg Sanders—just what I need._

"Greg, how many times do you have to go over this? When you have my results, you _page_ me!" Grissom said exasperatedly, holding up his pager to illustrate what he was saying. "I'm really not in the mood for another one of your flamboyant 'performances'."

Greg looked down nervously, his shoulders hunched in an uncharacteristically timid manner. His hand lingered on the doorknob, but at the same time he seemed to gather his resolve and looked up at Grissom.

"This isn't about the case, Grissom," said Greg, his voice quiet and firm.

Silence met his words. Grissom stared curiously at Greg.

"Sit down, Greg," ordered Grissom, after a pause. He noted Greg's worrying stance, and unusually sombre behaviour.

Greg shut the door behind him and sat down. His leg bobbed up and down and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. He looked around awkwardly, noting the many bugs and dead...things that decorated the office. It occurred to him that one day he would be dead too, and his insides might end up in little jars strewn across the country. It then occurred to him that he might have been dead just a few months ago in the lab explosion.

His heart skipped a beat.

"Greg?"

Grissom watched as the younger man's hands curled around the arms of his chair.

"Grissom...I-I want out in the field. Permanently"

A moment of silence passed between them, broken finally by Grissom's despondent sigh. "Greg, you know Ecklie will say no. The Lab's budget is strained, and field training is expensive—"

"I'll pay."

"Greg, that's not the _issue._ Ecklie knows that the team doesn't need an additional member. You have absolutely _no_ field training, and you've already proved that you don't exactly have the instincts of a CSI. There is nothing I can do."

Greg stared open-mouthed for a moment before speaking. "The bus crash was my first time in the field, Griss. And, yeah, I messed up, but you could teach me couldn't you? I won't mess up again, I swear; I'm a fast learner..."

Greg trailed off when Grissom stared resolutely at him.

"Can't you at least _ask_ Ecklie?" asked Greg softly, even though he knew it was a futile attempt.

"I don't need to, Greg," Grissom said gently. "Is that all?"

Greg nodded slowly. He stood and made his way out of the office. Head, down, moving fast, he turned in to the locker room and curled his hands into fists to stop the tears and stop the shaking.

* * *

Sara stepped into the observation room, and watched as Nick and Brass interrogated the suspect. Anger rose in her as images of the suspect's dead and abused wife flooded her mind. He was guilty; they all knew it.

And he wasn't even denying it.

Sara felt a darkness seep into her heart and, as the suspect was being escorted out of the interrogation room, she lunged at him. She knew it was a bad idea, but she didn't really care. All she cared about then was the tightness in her chest, and the inexplicable need to get rid of it.

When Nick's strong hands tightened around her shoulders she knew it was over. She pushed him off her and stalked out.

Head down, moving fast, she turned into the locker room and curled her hands into fists to stop the tears and stop the shaking.

* * *

Sara stopped in the doorway when she saw Greg sitting on the bench, staring stoically at the row of lockers in front of him. Sara watched him for a moment and...

Greg started when he heard a loud bang. He looked up to see Sara, her fist bloody and a dent in the locker in front of her.

For a long moment, the two simply stared at each other, a silence neither comfortable, nor awkward, between them.

"You wanna get a drink?"

* * *

Grissom stopped in the doorway when he saw Ecklie sitting in his office, staring stoically at the dayshift CSI in front of him. Grissom watched him for a moment and...

Ecklie rolled his eyes when he heard Grissom calling his name from the doorway of his office. He looked at the dayshift CSI, his glare in place. "We'll discuss this later, Thompson."

Grissom took a step back as the irritated CSI Thompson walked out of Ecklie's office. Grissom closed the door behind him, and smiled tightly at Ecklie.

"Hello, Conrad."

"What do you want, Gil?"

_Always business with you, huh, Ecklie?_

"Greg Sanders," said Grissom, placing the lab tech's file on the table, and taking a seat. "DNA technician for the nightshift."

"One of the best this lab has seen," added Ecklie, the compliment tasting strange on his tongue.

"He requested a transfer to the field—"

"No," said Ecklie before Grissom could continue. "Your team doesn't need the addition, and replacing Sanders isn't going to be easy. The Lab doesn't have the time or the money to accommodate the transfer."

"Money is not the issue, Conrad. Sanders is willing to pay for all expenses, and you're the one who keeps saying that my team could use an additional member."

"I meant a _qualified_ addition to the team, Gil. And anyway, that was while Willows was on suspension because of the lab explosion. Your team seems to have...settled since then."

"Well Ecklie, if you we were struggling with just one CSI on suspension, then you can't expect me to believe we aren't in need of another CSI to back us up."

Ecklie glared at Grissom. "No."

* * *

Sara didn't know or care how she ended up at Greg's house, or how their one hour break turned into an entire night off, but she did know that she should have been feeling a lot more exposed than she did. But, with Greg's body spooning hers, and the warm post-coital feeling still running through her veins, she found that she forgot whose arms were around her, and whose body was pressed against hers. And if she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend that it wasn't Greg at all who was holding her but...

"I think I'm in love with you..."

Sara stiffened as soon as the words left Greg's mouth. Suddenly all her fantasies went out the window and the situation hit her hard. This was _Greg_ she was sleeping with; goofy, Greg Sanders, who loved her, and who she didn't love.

Sara twisted in his arms until their faces were only a few inches apart. Greg closed his eyes, and leaned in to kiss her. She responded, but the second his lips were on hers, she knew how wrong it was.

"I'm in love with Grissom," she breathed into his mouth, and cringed when she saw the shock in Greg's eyes. "Greg, I'm sorry I just—"

"I guess we really shouldn't be doing this, huh?" Greg murmured his voice void of all emotion. He pulled away from Sara, and half-sat up in bed. Sara mirrored his position, and stared guiltily at the opposite wall.

"I guess not."

They sat awkwardly for what seemed like forever. Finally, Sara heard Greg shift, and looked up to see him reach into the bedside draw for a pack of cigarettes and lighter. He offered one to her, and when she shook her head vehemently, he simply shrugged, and lit one for himself.

"You smoke?" asked Sara, coughing in surprise when Greg's blew out smoke in her face.

"No."

* * *

When Greg got out of the shower, Sara was gone. He let out a strangled sigh and collapsed onto the bed. He knew that if he didn't leave right then, he would be late for work, but he was past caring. He watched the clock as the minutes ticked by, and let out an exasperated cry. God, how could he be so _stupid_? Of _course_ she was in love with Grissom. The signs were all there: the way she was always trying to win his attention, the rumours spread about them after the lab explosion. Hell, she wouldn't even _be_ in Vegas if it wasn't for Grissom.

She came to Vegas for him. She had been in love with Grissom from the very start. And three years later, Grissom _still_hadn't realized how much Sara loved him. And then Sara had made love to Greg. No, she had _slept_ with him. No, she _had sex_ with him. No, she _fucked_ him. He was her _rebound._

Fuck.

Greg felt as though someone had poured ice cold water over his head. His chest felt tight, and Sara's words—_I'm in love with Grissom, I'm in love with Grissom, I'm in love with Grissom—_echoed around his head, suffocating him. But Greg forced himself to relax; forced himself to forget about Sara, forget about Grissom, and forget about the lab explosion.

And he succeeded. Because when he left for work he had completely convinced himself that he would be fine in the lab. That he would be fine even if Sara loved Grissom and not him. That he would be happy as long as she was happy. That he _was_ happy.

* * *

Sara left Greg's house and drove straight home. She had a long, hot shower. By the end of it, her skin was streaked red, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't scrub away the guilt. She couldn't scrub away _Greg_.

And he was everywhere. His smell was on her skin, his voice was in her head, and she felt as though he was continuously watching her. She stepped out of the bathroom, and changed quickly. Grabbing her keys, she raced out the door.

The car ride to the lab was excruciating. She drove with the radio volume turned up, hoping to drown out Greg's voice in her head. But he just wouldn't leave her alone. She longed to get back to work just so that she could get her mind off what had happened.

She reached the lab and busied herself with a new case. She was no longer thinking of Greg, or Gil—or anything for that matter. The case was a simple hit and run, and she let her mind run on auto-drive.

Until her case led her to Greg's DNA Lab.

Before she had been pleased that she was working a solo case, but now she wished she was working with Nick or Catherine. Then she could stay well away from Greg's lab, and send someone else instead. She knocked hesitantly on the door, unsure if she was welcome or wanted. Greg didn't seem to hear her. He was hunched over in his chair, perusing over the results of another case. His pager beeped, and as he turned to look at it, she caught his eye.

Her heart beat in her chest and she expected the worst: a breakdown; yelling; passive aggression. She realized with a start that she didn't _know _what Greg's reaction would be. She had rarely seen him angry, and even then, it was only about something small like when Nick finished his coffee, or Catherine hovered around the lab waiting for results. But he had never been angry at _Sara_ before. _What will he do to me?_

But he just finished reading his page, looked up at her and smiled. "Oh, hey Sara! Would you believe it? I spent the last _three hours_ trying to extract DNA from Catherine's sample, and just as I paged her with the results, the suspect came waddling into the lab and confessed! Ugh! Why do I even _bother_?'

Sara stared, her mouth agape. She didn't understand. Greg was smiling, and making jokes like _nothing_ was wrong. Was he drunk? Her eyes narrowed in anger, at the thought of him coming into work inebriated. But, wait; she couldn't smell _any_ alcohol on him. What in the world was going on?

"Umm... Greg? Last night? I mean... you don't seem upset."

"Upset? Why would I be upset?"

At Sara's confused and disbelieving look, Greg sighed. Taking her hands in his, he looked her in the eye. "Sara, I spent last night with the most amazing woman in the world. I got to make her feel better after a horrible case, and she made me feel better after... after..."

"After what?"

Greg turned away, running a hand over his face. _After I was doomed to rot in this lab forever._

"It doesn't matter, Sara. What matters is that I had the time of my life with you last night, and that's enough for me. I just hope that we can always be friends, because I don't think I could stand losing you."

And he meant it. The fake smile was gone. His words were earnest and honest. He reached out and pulled Sara into a hug, breathing in her sweet scent. Strawberries.

It's okay now, he thought. I love her. I will _always_ love her. But it's okay now.

* * *

Greg leaned back in his seat, and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Sara had finally left, and it was relief to not have to pretend anymore. He leaned back in his chair, and his fake smile fell away. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the DNA lab.

He looked out into the hallway, at Hodges and Warrick. He stood up, not thinking and walked up to the glass, running his fingers over it lightly. His breath suddenly caught, and he closed his eyes tight, wiping his sweaty palms against his lab coat. What was wrong with him? Suddenly he felt as though the glass from the lab explosion was still embedded in his back. His heart pounding, he yanked off his lab coat, and arched his back, reaching back with his hand to rub it anxiously. His breath hitched, and he threw himself across the room. In his haste, he knocked over the trash can. His hands trembled as he checked the hot plate, and then all the other machines. God, what was wrong with him? What was going on?

His back itched, and he felt like crying in frustration. He looked around the room again, and panicked as the walls closed in on him. _I'm gonna be stuck in this fucking lab forever._ His eyes widened in horror, and he collapsed onto the swivel chair, letting it slide backwards till it hit the table with a thud. He suddenly felt empty and drained, and forced himself to get back to work. He snatched up the next sample and fumbled with the evidence bag before pulling out the blood sample. _Oh, Christ, I don't want to do this for the rest of my life._Greg picked up a vial and squeezed his shaking hands around it to make them still. His hands had stopped shaking a week ago. What made them start now?

Squeezing the vial tighter and tighter, Greg's eyes stung in frustration when the shaking didn't stop. Anger pulsated through him.; anger towards Sara, for loving Grissom instead of him; anger towards himself, for pretending that he was okay with that; anger towards Grissom, for not giving him a chance out in the field; anger towards the fucking lab that he would be stuck in forever; anger towards himself for being so scared of this lab; anger towards the lab explosion for making him so damn scared in the first place; anger towards Catherine for causing the lab explosion; anger towards—

He jumped as pain shot through his hand. He looked down at his bleeding palm, and at the broken glass on the floor. But his mind felt strangely detached and he didn't quite understand what had happened. After a moment he realized that he had broken the vial by squeezing it too hard. He stared at his hand, a strange faraway look in his eyes. All his anger was gone and he felt empty inside. He leaned back, his head resting against the back of the chair. He was exhausted, and fought to keep his eyes open. He felt odd and hopeless. He was out of luck; out of love; out of a job he actually enjoyed. He sighed, and closed his eyes, giving into sleep.

"Greg!"

Greg's eyes flew open. He looked up to see Warrick looking down at him disapprovingly. Warrick's eyes gravitated towards the floor where the vial still lay broken.

"You okay, Sanders?" he asked, his eyebrows rose sceptically. "What happened here?"

'Umm..." Greg sat open mouthed, searching for words. 'It... fell."

Warrick crossed his arms, looking bemused. "And you fell too, huh? Asleep."

"Look, Warrick, I can explain." Warrick looked at his expectantly. "I..."

Greg was saved from having to reply when Grissom materialized in the doorway. "Greg, my office." Greg winced. Grissom's voice was hard and cold and a shiver ran up his spine. Unbidden tears pricked his eyes, and he cursed under his breath, and stood, blinking madly. Grissom didn't seem to notice, however. "Warrick, get that cleaned up," he said pointing at the broken glass on the floor.

Grissom turned and stalked to his office, and Greg followed nervously. When he looked down at his hand, he thought that it should be stinging; when he stumbled slightly on his way to Grissom's office he thought that his head should probably be spinning; when he thought of Sara, he supposed his heart should be breaking.

But, conveniently enough, he felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.

* * *

Grissom was already seated when Greg hesitantly entered the office. Although Grissom was worried by the scene he walked into in the DNA lab, he knew he had to remain diplomatic and tactful. He ordered Greg to close the door behind him and take a seat. He watched, half-amused, as Greg closed the door and then meticulously drew each curtain in the office before sitting down. The two men sat in silence for a few minutes; Grissom watched Greg, who was staring at the wall with a blank expression on his face.

"Greg, show me your hand." Greg obliged, stretching out his injured hand to Grissom, who grasped it with a napkin, careful to keep Greg's blood off his hands. He switched on the desk light, and peered through his glasses at Greg's injury. He winced; Greg's latex glove was torn from the middle, and had glued itself to the wound. Getting it off would be painful. Small bits of glass were still embedded in the injury, and they shimmered in the light. The cuts were all shallow, with the exception of a few, which looked as though they needed stitches. Grissom decided that he would send Greg to Dr. Robbins when he was done speaking with him. When he had finished inspecting the wound, Grissom took off his glasses and went back to watching Greg.

Greg looked tired and drained. His eyes were eerily blank, as though he had already used up all of his emotions. Grissom didn't know what had happened in that lab, but he could guess. It was obvious that the broken vial had not been just a simple mistake. Greg didn't make mistakes, unless something put him off his game; unless something set him off.

"Did the vial fall, Greg? Is that how you hurt your hand?" Grissom asked tentatively, wondering offhandedly if he sounded more like a psychiatrist or a kindergarten teacher.

Greg shook his head. "I didn't think so," continued Grissom. "Tell me what happened."

Greg stared at Grissom, his eyes narrowed in silent determination. He kept his mouth shut.

"Greg, that's an order." When Grissom's remark was met with silence, he sighed. "Greg, I spoke to Ecklie."

Greg's sat up straighter in his seat, his eyes lighting up with the faintest trace of badly concealed hope. Grissom faltered, suddenly unable to break the bad news to Greg. What was he supposed to say?

"Greg, he..." Grissom shook his head slowly, and was about to tell Greg that Ecklie had refused his request for a transfer to the field. He paused. He could tell from the look in Greg's eyes that he already knew what Grissom was about to say. It didn't need to be said.

Greg nodded his lips slightly parted and his eyes clouded. Disappointment coursed through his veins, flowing along with his blood to his heart, until the cold tendrils of ice had curled around his heart, holding it in a numbing grasp. Greg's senses were dulled to everything around him except for the tightness in his chest, and the sensation that his heart was no longer beating.

Greg forced him legs to move. He stood, knowing that he had to get out before the ice crept into the hole that Sara had burned into his heart, freezing it from inside out; before the cold ice expanded inside of his chest and choked him till his heart shattered from the pressure. He had to escape.

He paused with his hand on the doorknob, the cold metal under his palm ironically soothing, despite the icy brick in his heart. Grissom was calling out his name, but his voice seemed far-off. The soft buzzing of machines and conversation on the other side of the office door seemed unnaturally loud in comparison to Grissom's faraway voice. Greg felt trapped. He couldn't stay inside the office, with Grissom sitting there _watching_him, but he didn't think he could go out and face the rest of the world. More than anything he just wanted to be alone at home, with the familiar walls protecting him. He felt dizzy. Sick.

"_Greg!"_

Greg turned, swift as a hurricane. Sudden anger coursed through him, melting the icy cold that had encased his heart. The numbness disappeared, and every emotion that he had repressed thundered through him: longing, betrayal, disappointment... anger.

"FUCK!" he yelled! Without thinking, he picked up the chair he was sitting on earlier, and threw it at the wall behind him. "Fuck _you_!" He snarled at Grissom.

Grissom's eyes widened in genuine shock. He blinked, taking a moment to process what was going on. He didn't understand. What had happened to his lab tech? Had the lab explosion messed him up _this_ bad? Should Grissom have sent him to a psychiatrist after that ominous day in the lab when Greg's hands were shaking? If he had been just a little more vigilant could he have prevented this... this... outburst?

"Can't you _see_?" Greg yelled, exasperated. "Why can't you fucking see?"

"See what, Greg?" asked Grissom. Concern flooded him, but he forced his voice to remain calm. It was his job to make sure Greg was okay. It was his responsibility to protect and nurture his team. His family. But what was he supposed to do when all of Greg's sudden anger seemed to be directed towards him?

"See _her!"_ Greg spun around, facing away from Grissom. He was buzzing with motion, his hands reaching up to run through his hair. He began to pace, and continued speaking, but he seemed to be talking more to himself than to Grissom. "But I guess love is fucking blind. I mean, I didn't see. Didn't see that... that she never really cared. That I was just her... her _play toy!_" he spat!

"Who are you _talking_ about, Greg?" asked Grissom, all his caution flying out the window.

"Sara!" Greg snarled, turning back to Grissom, and slamming his hands down on his desk. "Sara _fucking_ Sidle."

"Don't you get it? Don't you-"

"Get what, Greg?" Grissom asked urgently. He was confused (what had happened between Greg and Sara?), but under his confusion was hidden a small, silent spark of hope. Could Sara feel the same way that he felt? Could Sara love him?

Greg narrowed his eyes, staring deep into Grissom's. He inhaled sharply, as if he had only just realized what he had said. He collapsed onto the couch in the room, throwing his head back and staring at the ceiling. "God, Griss, I'm so sorry. I-I don't know what I was thinking-"

"Get what, Greg?"

Greg turned to Grissom, understanding dawning on him. "That she's in love in with you," he breathed.

Grissom stared, open-mouthed. A thousand emotions were spinning around in his head: surprise, relief and... and... hope. Just a spark. His chance at happiness.

Another flame of emotion flowed through Greg—not anger now, but determination. "Grissom," he said slowly, "If you fuck with her head, if you do anything but love her with everything you have, I swear I will... I'll steal a department gun and I will shoot you here in this very office. If you hurt her, I swear to God I will—"

"Greg, I'm in love with her."

Silence encompassed the room. They both loved her, but a silent agreement had been made between the two men. Sara was Grissom's. No matter how much Greg loved her, she chose Grissom. And he respected that decision.

"Right," Greg said curtly. Turning away and making his way to the door. "I'm gonna go show this to Doc Robbins," he said, waving his injured hand in the air. "I'll see you later, then..." he said awkwardly.

Greg turned away, and had his hand on the doorknob when Grissom called out to him.

"Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Greg smiled, and looked bashfully over his shoulder at Grissom, before nodding curtly. He opened the office door, and stopped in his tracks.

Outside, on the threshold of Grissom's office, stood the one and only Sara Sidle. A look of shock and confusion was etched on her face, and her eyes were huge and shimmering.

"Hey Sar'," breathed Greg, offering up a half smile. He leaned in and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

He turned back to Grissom for just a moment, smiling at the expression of total devotion on his face. Sara was in good hands.

He walked away, and called out to Grissom over his shoulder.

"She's all yours."

* * *

_Six Months Later_

Greg sat in the locker room staring down at the CSI badge in his hands. He ran his hand over the cool metal, as the badge shimmered in the artificial light. _CSI Level One._ A small smile lit up his face; things weren't so bad after all.

He got the job, in the end, just not as early as he had expected it. A whole month after his request was declined, he was still working in the lab. Then, one day, Grissom called him into his office. He pushed a card out towards Greg: _Dr. Eleanor Harding;_a psychiatrist. At first, he refused. But when Grissom said that after the two mandatory sessions, he was going to start training Greg to become a CSI, Greg agreed immediately. At first, he had to train and work in the lab at the same time, and it felt as though he would never escape from the lab. It wasn't until after a couple of months with Eleanor 'Rigby', as he had come to call his shrink, that he passed his proficiency test and became a full-fledged CSI.

When he had first asked for the transfer to the field, it was to run from the lab; run from his problems. But the day he received his CSI badge, he had returned to the DNA lab to collect his things. He stood in the middle of his lab, and realized that he really _would_ miss it. It was the first time since the lab explosion that Greg felt at home in the lab. He wasn't running from his problems anymore, he was just moving on to bigger and better things. But even as he moved out into the big bad world, he knew that the little lab would always be there when he needed it; his homeland; his sanctuary. His sessions with Eleanor had payed off after all.

"Hey there, lover boy," called a voice from the door, bringing Greg back to the present. Greg looked up and grinned up at Sara.

"Is that how you call your lover boy?" he joked.

Sara smiled and walked further into the room. She stopped in front of Greg and stretched out a hand to him. He held it lightly, and marvelled at the plain gold band on her finger. He looked up at her questioningly.

"Gil proposed!" she said, her school-girl-excitement shining through, regardless of her attempts to hide it.

"And you said—"

"Yes!"

Greg grinned, genuinely happy. Grissom and Sara made a good couple, a better couple than Greg Sara could have ever been. It was obvious to everyone that they made each other happier than ever. He pulled Sara into a hug, holding her close for a few moments and breathing in her scent. Pulling away, he looked deep into her eyes.

"You're beautiful, Sar',' he breathed, awestruck.

Sara smiled bashfully, and looked up at her best friend. She smiled. "Thank you, Greg."

"No. Thank _you,_ Sara," whispered Greg. He put his hands on the side of her face and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. Staring deep into her eyes for a moment longer, he turned and walked out of the locker room, his hand lingering behind him to hold Sara's hand for as long as possible. Until he had to let go. Until he had to let _her _go.

* * *

_Now I'm in love but I don't know how  
I'm in pain 'cause I want it now  
__As I sit watching her eyes close  
__I slowly open mine._

* * *

Author's Note: I hope you guys liked it. Did you enjoy the references to The Beatles song 'Eleanor Rigby' and to 'Dirty Dancing'? And I suppose there was a little bit of HIMYM in there too. After all, Greg DID pull a Ted Mosby.

Anyway, thanks for reading! Review please!


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